Compared to artists who create films, novels, and theater, artists who make paintings, photographs, and sculpture have a hard time literally telling a story. However, they can be very effective at making artwork that suggests one. That is the idea behind a new show at the Penland Gallery titled, All This Happened, More or Less: Five Artists’ Use of Implied Narrative. The title of the show comes from the first line of Kurt Vonnegut’s novel “Slaughterhouse Five,” and the artists are printmaker Susan Goethel Campbell, photographer Maggie Taylor, ceramic artist Shoko Teruyama, and mixed-media sculptors Anne Lemanski and Stephanie Metz.
Susan Goethel Campbell is represented by dark, monochromatic prints that have been perforated in patterns derived from data sets that represent wind patterns and other phenomena. Maggie Taylor has a series of digitally constructed dream-like images. Shoko Teruyama is showing functional and sculptural ceramic forms decorated with elaborate, mysterious scenes involving different animals. Anne Lemanski has created a series of animal sculptures built on wire armatures that are covered with paper and other materials that create social and political commentary. Stephanie Metz makes felt sculpture like none we’ve ever seen before. Included in the show is her series of felt skulls that purport to represent different species of Teddy bear.
The show is pretty stunning. It will be up through September 19.
In 2009 we began the tradition of the Penland School of Crafts Ornament of the Year. We like to think that these ornaments represent the spirit of creativity at Penland all year round.
Penland School of Crafts 2010 Ornament
Created by Jenny Lou Sherburne
Jenny Lou Sherburne is a studio artist and past Penland instructor who lives in nearby Bakersville, NC. She created this special teapot for our on-going series of annual ornaments.
I make mid-fired functional pots. The forms are playfully extreme and stretch the boundaries of function as well as the limits of clay. I make thrown and pinched forms that I stack, carve and augment and then glaze with bright slips and glazes. My inspirations range from garlic cloves to onion domes, from the Isle of Crete to the Land of Oz, from Antonio Gaudi to Dr. Seuss. I want my work to be imbued with an attitude of presence that is full of humor, vigor and joy. As I work I try to let go of old habits and assumptions, to let my intuition and enjoyment of the process guide me. After almost twenty-five years as a studio potter, I am still captivated by the belief that I can sustain inspiration through the pressures and tedium of day to day living. In this way my work teaches me about how to live my life.
Thrown and hand-built, white stoneware, teapot ornament, approximately 3 1/2″ high, with hanging ribbon and gift box.
$50 retail price, plus tax when applicable
Shipping – $5
Please call the Penland Gallery at 828-765-6211
or e-mail email@example.com
We except Visa, MasterCard, and American Express
You may also purchase a teapot in person at the Penland Gallery.
A very limited number of the 2009 ornaments are still available – please contact the gallery if you are interested.
It is not difficult to recognize work created by Marc Maiorana. There are certain identifying characteristics found in the work, whether it is functional or sculptural, recent work or from early in his career.
To work with material in such a spartan and ascetic fashion requires a bit of courage. Rather than the addition of some trademark technique or design element – it is the absence of such things in Marc’s work that is your first clue. Surfaces are clean, clean, clean, with barely a hint that a heavy tool or a loud formidable machine played any part in forming the steel. The courage is that of exposure – if you are going to form a 3/8″ rod into a perfect circle as it peels away from another perfect circle – you open yourself up to a certain vulnerability of perfect-ness, don’t you?
Marc also negotiates the area where function and design intersect very well. His line of steel work for the home, Iron Design Company (even the name is pretty direct and to the point), are not extraneous products – they are items we actually use, and often need in our homes. Here again are Marc’s well-considered details – the tension hold on the candle and the nearly hidden hanging devices for the coat rack and book sconce. The surfaces are pristine but also manage to retain a warmth or softness – the edges are just touched to remove a physical and visual sharpness, the patina is just barely imperfect – enough to remind you that Marc was part of the process – made by human hands.
One might describe Marc’s work as having restraint. During his time here at Penland it would seem that that discipline is part of his work ethic as well – along with grace and a high standard of craftsmanship that is found in his work.
He has designed railings for Penland School as well as for private homes, has shown his large sculptural work in gallery and museum shows, and his functional work (with partner Robyn Raines) has gotten quite a bit of notice in the press and on the internet design sites. The Penland Gallery is fortunate to have a number of pieces from Marc’s Iron Design Company line, and will have one of his larger sculptural works later this summer when he is teaching.
Marc first learned blacksmithing from his father and later earned a BFA in metals from Southern Illinois University at Carbondale. He was a resident artist at Penland School of Crafts from 2002-2005 and has taught at numerous institutions including Marywood University (PA), Peters Valley Craft Center (NJ), Penland School of Crafts (NC), and Haystack School of Crafts (ME).
Marc has exhibited widely including the Architectural Digest Home Design Show (NY), the National Ornamental Metal Museum (TN), the Houston Center for Contemporary Crafts, and the Center for Craft, Creativity and Design (NC). He has been published in four Schiffer books on contemporary metalwork, and featured in Icon magazine, Gourmet magazine, Dwell’s on-line magazine, and the New York Times.
Marc maintains a studio for his Iron Design Company and Marc Maiorana Studio in Cedar Bluff, VA, in a converted gas station.
About the Work
Iron Design Company was established to promote modern designs in hand formed iron objects by metalworker Marc Maiorana. Additionally, IDC supports an apprenticeship with the local high school, giving students a unique opportunity to work with their hands.
Iron Design Company shapes steel into inviting and unique articles. Contrary to belief, modern day usage of iron is more accurately steel. Familiar terms such as “wrought” and “forged” describe how iron itself and iron goods were made and continue to be common descriptions of formed steel products. In many ways, our studio is similar to the ages-old iron workshop, yet with a number of modern technical conveniences. We use heat, hammer, and hydraulics to form steel stock; and pencil, clay, and wire to draft and model designs.
The majority of the items we create are formed in steel, the world’s most recycled material. The steel Iron Design Company uses originates in steel mills producing structural type steels with 80-90% recycled content. Interestingly, steel goods will always contain recycled steel. Our specialty is giving grace to a bold, stubborn building material and kind of defying the structural stereotype that steel is often associated with.
There are quite a few ‘do not touch’ signs in the gallery, and most of the time people are pretty good about exercising restraint. George’s Pond Bowl is the exception – allot of fingerprints on a piece that has a Please Do Not sign nearby – but – it is SO inviting. All that cool, clear watery glass with the koi and leaves just beneath the surface; who can blame them for trying to satisfy their curiosity?
Whether it is the pond bowl or the luminous font bowl, George’s work is much admired and respected in the gallery. Technically, the work is beautifully crafted with polished surfaces and crisp details. Aesthetically, the work is calm and inclusive – the weight and solidity of the work combined with the imagery and delicate coloring is extremely approachable. Nothing shy about it either, since the pond is nearly two feet across.
George has been a friend of the school for many years and has had work in our gallery as far as our records and memory can go back. His craftsmanship, work ethic, professionalism, and sense of humor make us happy that he is still producing beautiful work for us to show in the gallery.
I enjoy and appreciate many aspects of hot glass, but it’s the aesthetics of cast glass that has held my attention for the last 26 years. I love the whole process of designing work and overcoming the technical challenges that seem to come with each piece. In the end, it’s simple beauty that moves me most, and I feel successful and grateful when it moves others.
George Bucquet began casting hot glass at Penland School in 1984. During his seven years spent at Penland, he became a Resident Artist. After completing his studies and residency, George moved to Arcata, CA, where he has continued to develop new and innovative techniques for creating his cast glass. George’s work is found in galleries around the world and in the private collections of Rupert Murdoch, Bill Gates, Irvin Borowsky, Noel and Janene Hilliard, and the estate of Jerry Garcia. His work can also be found in the permanent collection of the U.S. Embassy, Ottawa, Canada; the Musee des Arts Decoratifs, Lausanne, Switzerland; the Asheville Museum of Art, NC; the National Liberty Museum, Philadelphia, PA; and the White House.
From an article in World Art Glass Quarterly Magazine:
George Bucquet makes what he wants, and if you like it too, well, that makes his job even easier. And Bucquet’s “job,” as he sees it, is not centered on selling as many pieces of his art as possible. Rather, as Bucquet states, “I try to stay focused on the work that is in front of me, or better yet, the work that is in me. Of course I care very much if people are buying the work. However, it is important to keep in mind that selling the work is not the end, but the means.”
Fortunately, Bucquet has had ample financial success and collectors’ acclaim to keep his studio running. His cast glass pieces have found homes with the likes of Rupert Murdoch and Bill Gates. He doesn’t care much for throwing around those names, however, and is quick to point out that “they’re just people and nobody’s more important than anyone else who buys the work.” Rather than dwelling on commercial success, which he says has come by the “Grace of God,” Bucquet’s priorities are on glass for the sake of the glass itself.
Bucquet’s artistic journey began in Carmel, California, when he visited a prominent glass gallery and felt for the first time the excitement of blowing and creating artistic glass. From there he went to the Pratt Fine Arts Center in Seattle and then finally to Penland School in North Carolina, where he spent one year as a student and four years as a resident artist.
About the Work
Working together with precision timing, George and his assistants pour hot glass, thick and translucent as honey, into a handmade sand mold, and then carefully press it into shape. A mold is individually created for each casting and the colored molten glass, formulated from scratch, is melted to 2350 degrees F in a custom built furnace. After several days of cooling in an annealing oven, each bowl is hand detailed with copper, silver and gold leaf.
The color black carries all sorts of suggestions and meaning, not the least of which is weight. In fact, it has been shown that when people see two identical objects–one black and one white–they tend to think that the black object is heavier. Artists and graphic designers also know that black suggests areas of weight in their visual compositions. This is the basic idea being explored in a new exhibition at the Penland Gallery titled The Weight of Black. This mixed-media show includes pieces in clay, glass, jewelry, paper, photography, printmaking, and textiles made by artists who have chosen to use the color black as an important thematic or compositional element. The show runs through July 18. You can see more work from the show here.
Spare, precise, and exacting – and yet – complicated. There is a visual economy in Sarah’s jewelry, removing all the extraneous fluff and fuss and paring it down to the line or form that is most important to her. But so often that “simplicity” is the result of endless hours of skilled craftsmanship and labor-intensive technique. To quote Sarah about the ring pictured – “18k yellow gold bimetal is lovingly, obsessively, painstakingly scratched with an x-acto blade until it’s surface glitters like a disco ball “. While the end results would satisfy an ardent minimalist – the technical path getting there is impressive.
Sarah was a Core student at Penland in 2005-2006, spending the majority of her time in the metals studios with a foray into the print studio now and then. In printmaking she applied her metals skills to intaglio prints with the same exactitude and meticulous results she achieved in her jewelry. She left Penland on a serious trajectory upward and full of redheaded determination. Her resume since 2005 outlines how well that has played out – teaching cred and name-dropping gallery shows, a strong wholesale business and a lot of experience.
We have been showing Sarah’s work in the gallery since 2006 and look forward to each box of her jewelry – new ideas and elegant forms.
My name is Sarah Loertscher, and I’m a studio jeweler in Seattle, Washington. I’m a transplant from North Carolina, where I spent two years washing dishes and making art as a Core Student at Penland School of Crafts. Originally, I hail from Indiana, the land of agriculture, Indy cars, and sweeping sky. I earned my BFA from Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana, where I started working with metal. I’ve been making jewelry for eight years.
From an interview with Sarah:
Where did you get started, and how long have you been working in steel?
Officially, I got started at Ball State University in Indiana- I had to take all these survey courses as an undecided art major, and six weeks into my metals class I declared metals as my major. Working in that shop was the first time I can remember vividly losing time; sinking so far into a project that hours would drift by unnoticed. I remember the feeling that I had found a partner- like – THIS THING was what I was going to spend my life exploring. The only other time I felt that was when I met my (now) fiancé.
About the Work
My work is based in fabrication and typically I work in sterling silver and 18k yellow gold. I am interested in crystalline structure and how simple shapes can grow into large, chaotic, complicated masses of their own. Usually when I am making a piece of jewelry, I am either trying to build up a line or a shape into a more dynamic design, or I am distilling shapes down into their structural supports. The facets on rocks and crystals are also visually interesting to me, and creating my own faceted objects.
My current work is fabricated by scoring and soldering sterling silver into a variety of polygons, and assembling these polygons into crystalline structures. The end result is light, linear jewelry that echoes the structural aspects of both minute crystalline growth patterns and large-scale architectural design.
Inspiration comes to me in the form of illustrated field guilds, diagrams of any sort, frost, columnar basalt, and the subtle landscape of my Indiana homeland. My favorite materials are sterling silver and mild steel.
At the moment, there is a five-foot sturgeon in the gallery. Isinglass Sturgeon is the result of three years of Dan’s creative work and the finest example of his re-definition of the book. Pages or chapters become fins; his backbone carries a library of small books, chained like aquatic hitchhikers; in place of scales a leathery paper skin is reminiscent of a long forgotten ledger. This is but one of the many beautiful and complex sculptural books Dan has shared with us at Penland over the past 18 years that he has been a part of Penland.
There are more traditional books in Dan’s portfolio – ones with front and back covers and a stitched binding in the expected location – with Centipede bindings wrapping around the covers and mica windows covering fossil treasures or tintype photographs.
Dan began his book studies at Penland, and has taught here many times; occasionally teaming with one of his mentors, Dolph Smith. He spent several years at Penland as Core student in the early nineties, and lives not far away in Asheville, NC.
We are fortunate to have exhibited Dan’s work in the gallery for many years and enjoy his transmutation of the book form. Dan’s own words below, best describe his work – work that comes from a complex mind’s eye.
I got into bookbinding while studying photography at the University of South Illinois at Carbondale. One of my professors, Chuck Swedlund, hired me as his graduate assistant on his photographic caving expeditions. I carried equipment, held strobes, and fired off flash bulbs for Chuck and other cave photographers. For several months we worked almost every day underground. During the long stretches of inactivity, I searched for fossils and cave life and took photographs of my own. I also spent a lot of time wandering above ground, collecting images of melting ice, weathered rocks, eroding soil, and rotting trees. I found myself gravitating towards the colors of decay, the beauty of aging. I kept an eye out for Native American petroglyphs, abstract designs or images of footprints or animals and became good at finding them. These places seemed sacred to me.
One of the first books I made (this was before I knew how to bind) was an altered book, printed in Greek. I glued the pages together, and they were so brittle that I could scrape out a Native American rock painting that I often saw in Southern Illinois. Another time I found a little newt, a red eft that had been flattened by a car on the road. He was dry, curled up, and so paper-thin that I preserved him between two sheets of handmade paper and mounted him in a book. It was my version of a petroglyph. Rather than mounting my photographs on gallery walls, I decided to place them in boxes or books so that the viewer had to explore them actively, rather than just wandering past.
Around this time I visited my sister Mary in Iowa City and met a friend of hers named Al Buck, who was making wooden-covered Coptic books. The binding was first used around the fourth century, in Ethiopia or North Africa, or perhaps this is just the area where the books were best preserved. Al sent me a book that he had made, along with hand-written instructions. Since I knew nothing about bookmaking or sewing or paper or woodworking, it was a challenge. The books had holes drilled vertically through the board, but other holes were drilled at angles from the edge of the board to both the inside and outside face. This perplexed me, because I didn’t know whether to use a drill press or hold the board in a vice at an angle. Al told me to clamp the board to the inside of a drawer and then drill the hole with a hand-powered drill, just eyeballing it. I was happy to learn that it was easiest to drill the holes with a simple tool that my grandfather might have used. (Bowing to convenience, I now use a metalsmith’s power drill called a flex shaft, but I still eyeball the angle.) Once I mastered the drilling, the rest of the process fell into place. Still, it took me nearly two years to make a book I was satisfied with. What first appealed to me about Coptic books was that, unlike most hand-bound books, they open completely flat. When I put images on the pages, you could see the whole image without struggling with the binding.
My first book arts mentor was Frances Lloyd Swedlund. At the time she was a cinema and photography graduate student at Carbondale, but she also made exquisitely crafted books. A lot of people were impressed with the first boxes and books that I made, but Frances was not. The others liked the simple fact that I was making boxes and books; she saw that they were sloppily made, with no sense of craftsmanship. Frances, who had studied at the Penland School of Crafts, knew it was the place for me to learn bookmaking, and she urged Chuck (who had taught at Penland himself) to send me there. Chuck was reluctant to lose his assistant, somebody had to haul his equipment through the cave muck, but ultimately he agreed.
As I finished my degree at Carbondale, I spent my summers as a work scholarship student at Penland, and later I became a core student there. It was at Penland that I began to concentrate exclusively on Ethiopian Coptic books. Dolph Smith helped push me beyond the simple Ethiopian book. He was making sculptural books by hanging paper from wooden structures, and I tracked him down and ultimately studied with him. Under his influence I developed my bridge books, which use the same Coptic binding but exaggerate each of the elements: the covers become elongated into two-foot-long towers that stand on a tabletop, and rather than 10 or 12 signatures in the text block, I use 100 to 200, well over 1000 pages. I can’t afford that much new paper, so to make the bridges I return to the idea of the altered book. I find books that have mangled spines and covers but good quality paper, and I use that paper in my work. Often I use old Bibles with exceptionally thin paper, which has a nice drape and flow. I like to listen to bookbinders try to justify tearing up old books, because it sometimes makes them feel a little guilty. I don’t have much of a problem with the practice, because the books I alter are not rare, and they’ve already lived their lives. Bookbinders have been recycling books for 2000 years. In some of the first Coptic books, wood was scarce, and the binders would take old papyrus scrolls and laminate many layers together to make thick book covers.
One of the first people I met at Penland was Julie Leonard, who was a resident artist there at the time. I assisted in her classes, and she helped me learn how to make a living by making production journals. These are still one-of-a-kind books, but I can make them fairly quickly and sell them for a reasonable price at shows. I’ve made hundreds over the years, and I can’t imagine stopping now. I spend so much of my time sewing books that the process is meditative. It gives me an opportunity to think about the structure of the book, and how to stretch the limits of the Coptic form.
Some people use my books as journals and fill them up with words. I don’t write in my books. For me, the books themselves are journals, visual records of my life and work.
I am interested in traces of the past, ancient binding styles, altered books, distressed finishes, and found objects. Since I was six or seven years old, I’ve been collecting small objects. I have seashells and interesting rocks that I collected at the beach on childhood vacations. I also have my grandfather’s arrowhead collection. He often walked the freshly plowed fields of the central Missouri town where spent his life, collecting these stone relics of the land’s past inhabitants. I’ve stored up seedpods, rocks, bones, shells, bits of rusty metal, nails, animal teeth, and fossils. They represent periods in my life, even just days or moments. I keep my collection of objects in drawers, bottles, and boxes within a single small room in my house. The space has the feel of a German Wunderkammern, a “cabinet of curiosities.” I often sit in the room and scan my collection, seeking just the right object to inspire a new book or sculpture.
A symphony conductor who collects my work once told me that he hides my books in a basket every evening before going to bed so they won’t be stolen during the night. Until fairly recently all books were prized possessions — medieval libraries chained books to the shelves to prevent theft. In those days each volume was crafted with precision, elaborately decorated and embellished with precious stones and metals. I aim to make my books just as precious as those medieval manuscripts.
All my work has a Coptic book at its heart. The binding was first used about the fourth century, in Ethiopia or North Africa, or perhaps this is just the area where the books were best preserved. There are several distinct sewings known as Coptic. The style I use is known as Ethiopian. I use two needles for each length of thread, one on either end. I use wood covers and tunnel through the edge of the board to attach the text block. The historic sewing style, wooden boards, and the type of board attachment are what distinguish the Ethiopian style Coptic Binding.